He always wore gloves. Elsa tried not to notice anything about him, but somehow she always managed to see him around the castle. It didn't matter what he was doing, the gloves always accompanied him. It was a curious sight, fine gloves coupled with dirty work clothes. She didn't try to take them from him, something kept her from it.
All of his clothes were charred, as well. At first, she had simply assumed it had been from working in the kitchen, or cleaning out one of the fireplaces. But the more she watched him, the more she wondered. She didn't know why she had allowed him to live. Allowed him out and around the castle when he most likely deserved the death that his brother had suggested. Something in her just couldn't stoop to his level and sentence him to death. Nobody had faced that sentence under her rule, much to the unhappiness of her advisers.
She knew that sometimes it was necessary. Some people were irredeemable. Rotten to the core. But she thought she'd seen something in Hans. The reflection of someone who craved solitude and someone pushed into things by his family. Lars didn't fool her with his smooth words. Hans' family wasn't the pretty picture they claimed to be. What she had yet to discover was the worst of the bunch, or merely trying to keep up.
~Six months earlier~
Of course, he was returning. He wasn't afraid. It had been a very long time since Hans had been afraid of his brothers. A bitter laugh escaped his chapped lips. Anna was actually right about one thing; his was the only frozen heart. She didn't know the half of it.
He was kept in the belly of the ship, his ankles and arms spread far in opposite directions by chains to make sitting impossible. Or eating. Or sleeping. They hadn't bothered to cover his hands, they knew better than to even try that. And if they didn't, they would learn.
Even kept below, Hans could hear the flurry of activity on the deck. It drew a rough smile to his lips. They would be docking in the Southern Isles soon and he would be reunited with his family. He wondered if they would pretend to be happy to see him at first. Not much point. His return alone would assure them that he had failed in his task to gain control of Arendelle. For a brief moment, they might wonder if he was returning with his bride, but even they would know a queen could not leave her kingdom so shortly after her coronation.
No. Hans' smile grew tighter, though there was no one to see. They would know the truth and they would be angry. It almost amused him to picture their furious faces once they realized their plan had failed. The youngest son, unlucky number thirteen, as big a failure as ever.
He'd had plenty of time to reflect upon the events in Arendelle in the past weeks he'd spent in his cell and come to one solid conclusion.
It was Elsa's fault.
The poorly trained queen had allowed emotions to get a hold of her and had come so close to allowing him to do the same. She had driven a stake through the heart of his plan, pushing him to measures he had never intended. Not that he was against killing. He'd never actually killed anyone before, but he was morbidly curious to know what it might feel like.
Assuming he felt anything. Feeling anything, for him, was a rare occurrence.
Lars was the only one on the docks when Hans was lead above board. His hand and legs were still chained together, rattling with every step. He descended from the gangplank and approached his brother, giving the best bow he could manage with the chains holding him so stiffly.
"Prince Lars." He greeted his brother with a smirk. His brother looked past him to the French delegate behind him, who came rushing after Hans, offering quick explanations. Lars held a hand up.
"I assume you wrote a letter or something of the sort detailing Hans' obvious failure. Bring it to me, and that will be all."
"But, your brother, I'm sure the King and Queen would like to hear personally-"
"I said that will be all." Lars cut him off coldly, leaving no room for discussion. Though he was several years the other man's junior, he held an air of confidence that could only be described as regally terrifying and could fluster even the most confident of people. Hans swore he had even seen his father show signs of nervousness around the fourth son. It was Lars' most admirable trait.
As it was, the delegate rushed back to the ship, apparently anxious to escape Lars' presence. Hans smiled, watching his brother turn back to him.
"Obviously you didn't do as you were told." Lars stated.
Hans smiled in return. "Do I ever?" He returned coolly. Lars gave him a long look, but did not respond. And so the two stood in silence until the Frenchman returned, handing Lars a letter which he tucked into his jacket.
"Now remove his chains." Lars commanded. Even so, the man hesitated.
"Sir, Prince Hans has proven himself to be dange-"
"Did I ask if he was dangerous? I can take care of myself, and Hans will not harm me. Of that much, I am confident. I will take my brother to face his punishment. Now have his chains removed and push your ship off before I send one of my father's ships to ensure that you no longer trouble us." The threat was spoken smoothly, you could almost brush over the hard edge in his tone. Almost.
The man paled several shades, apparently searching for the right thing to do in his mind. He must have decided he valued his own skin the most, because he shouted for a guard to unbind Hans, hurrying back up onto the ship and yelling to make ready to sail.
Hans smiled, letting his chains fall away and relaxing into a more comfortable position. The men would be on rations for a few weeks, if they didn't stay in the Southern Isles long enough to restock. And from the look on Lars' face, they had the choice of leaving out to sea, or leaving into the depths of the sea.
"Come along, little brother. It's time to face dear mum and dad." Lars spoke, and Hans inclined his head, beginning to walk. There was a private path from the docks to the castle that only the royals could take, and that was the one he walked along with his brother. In silence until they were out of range of anyone else. Lars looked to the side.
"Did you have any accidents on your trip?"
Hans flexed his hands, heat building. "I never have accidents."
He would have preferred to keep the cell warm, but just to display his control, Hans kept it at an even temperature. He'd spent three months in solitude. Blessed, pure, solitude.
Why did everyone assume he wanted a crown? A kingdom? All he wanted was peace and quiet. He knew that the three months of blissful silence could not last. He finally heard the sound of footsteps echoing outside, and it wasn't the same gait as the guard who brought his food. It was the sound of Caius, Hans recognized the footfall. Seventh son. He held quite a hand in convincing people to do things they didn't want to do.
Funny. What was it his family wanted him to do now? Surely they were fresh out of projects for their pet monster.
His cell door swung open and Caius stepped in.
"Hello, Prince Hans. How have you been?"
"Rotting in prison. Life has never been better." Hans returned smugly, carefully licking his charred lips. The action did little to add any moisture, proving that he had been bottling up the heat far too long. He eyed his brother a brief moment, wondering how he would look as an ashy corpse.
"How would you like to get out?" Caius offered, oblivious to Hans' inner musings.
"Now why would I want that? Leave my peace and quiet, to what? Spend time with my loving family? I imagine it must be killing you, isn't? Our perfect family torn apart by one traitor." The words dripped with sarcasm.
Caius appeared unimpressed. "Quit your dramatics, Hans. Our family is not known for compassion. We all find ways to torment each other, even you. But unless you would like to face a real punishment, I suggest you accept."
"Real punishment?" Hans' eyebrow winged upward in mild curiosity.
"Hanged. Or impaled on a spike. Of course Enos is eager for someone to test out his devices on, and I'm sure even you would begin to feel pain at his tactics." Caius spoke bluntly, a trait that Hans respected. He never had to wonder what his brother was thinking.
"Alright." He drew the word out in a bored tone. "If I must, then. I will hear your proposition and consider if it's better than torture. I somehow doubt it."
Caius smiled the cruel smile every one of them had inherited. "You're to return to Arendelle. Time to finish what you started, little brother."
At that, Hans took notice. He was interested, to say the least. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Come. Lars is in the study and will explain the plan to you."
"Hello Hans." Lars didn't look up when Hans entered. Caius left, leaving the two of them alone. Lars was oldest brother not married to a queen from another kingdom, leaving him the eldest still living at home. He seemed perfectly happy with the life of controlling everything his younger brothers did, ensuring that the Southern Isles stayed powerful. Even their parents were happy to give him a great amount of control, after he had proved his abilities.
"Are you ready to return to Arendelle?" He finally asked.
"Why on earth would I want to return to Arendelle?" Hans asked, wandering further inside the library and perusing the countless books. Lars had always loved to read.
"Because I tell you to."
Hans darkened. "Fine. Why on earth would you have me return to Arendelle." He sneered.
Lars looked up finally, rolling his eyes. "Really Hans, you needn't be so dramatic. And isn't my reasoning obvious? You're to finish what you started."
"Killing the two sisters?" Hans asked, cocking a single eyebrow.
Lars tsked. "Your mind goes such dark places, brother. No, you're going to win over the queen, still."
Hans gave a snort, shaking his head. "You must be delusional, Lars. Only a madman would believe that I could still win her over after breaking Anna's heart. Imagine that, siblings that actually care about each other. It's really a sight to see."
"I'm sensing some bitterness, dear Hans. But no matter. Don't tell me that you couldn't twist your story to her liking. Poor little unlucky Hans, the youngest sibling, pushed around by all twelve of his older brothers. Use your gift, that will surely get her on your side. People can't help but like those that are the same as them. Once you've won her over, you'll obviously never get the crown, though that would be preferable. You'll send me letters and describe and weaknesses you find, whether they be in Arendelle's defenses or in their Queen. Once enough information is gathered, the Southern Isles will take Arendelle."
Hans considered it for a long moment. Elsa had seemed as cold as him at first, but her reaction to Anna's supposed death had made it obvious that the Queen was simply very good at covering her feelings. It seemed they were opposite that way. Hans was excellent at forcing a warm and feeling exterior while feeling nothing inside. Elsa was very good at forcing a cold, unfeeling exterior while covering her feelings on the inside.
"I'm sure you've been told what will happen to you if you refuse." Lars spoke again, making Hans realize how long the two had been sitting in silence. He rolled his head to the side, looking at Lars.
"You would exploit what I am for the good of the kingdom? My own brother? Perhaps I will find peace in Arendelle. At least I will be free from my...cruel family." His voice caught in the end and Hans' turned mournful, looking at his brother as though he'd been betrayed.
Lars only smiled. "There's that actor we all know and love. I'll assume that's a yes. You'll leave on the morrow, arrangements have already been made."
Lars stood before the Queen of Arendelle, glancing over her. She certainly didn't look like she was capable of raining down incredible destruction, icing over entire fjords or creating an eternal winter. Maybe she was more like his brother than he assumed.
"Why have you come?" She demanded, head held high.
Lars bowed before her, gathering up his most repentant face. "Queen Elsa, I apologize if my presence has caused you any distress. It is not my wish to make this any more difficult on you. I come bearing good tidings." He offered. The Princess at her side perked up.
"What, has Hans been sentenced to eating poop for the rest of his sad life? Or maybe-"
"Anna! Have some decorum, please." Queen Elsa told her sister, swiftly cutting her off. The Princess slumped back in her chair, casting her sister a dirty look and crossing her arms.
"It's not like he wouldn't deserve it." She mumbled.
Lars inclined his head, wondering why the Queen allowed her sister to speak so freely. "No. Hans has been sentenced, after much deliberation. We want nothing to do with the traitor, after the way he has shamed our family. We have come to the decision to leave him with you, requesting that you take him as a slave to somehow repay the crimes against your kingdom. We believe that a life staring at his biggest failure would be the best punishment for my younger brother. And, I believe he has something to say to you."
Lars looked back, signalling one of his personal guards. The man jogged from the room and Lars turned back to the Queen, who appeared to be struggling to keep her face clear of expression.
"You brought Prince Hans here?" She asked.
"You may just call him Hans, Your Majesty. Though he hasn't been formally stripped of his title yet, he will be when I return home. Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles is now nothing more than Hans."
On cue, the guard reentered with his brother in tow. Hans was dressed in worn and torn clothes, with a few charred edges just for effect. A black sack covered his head, which Lars pulled off to reveal his brother's bruised and bloody face.
The Queen drew back, shock playing plainly across her face at the sight. Even the Princess looked repulsed. Lars cleared his throat.
"My apologies for the state of my brother's health. I'm afraid some of the family wasn't very forgiving towards him for treating anyone as cruelly as he did you. I assure you that it's all surface wounds. He will work just as strong as ever." He assured the two of them, watching the Queen's face shift from shock to confusion and wariness. She said nothing though, so he took his opportunity to grab Hans by the back of the neck and shove him to his knees. His brother's shoulders bent and his head bowed, the picture of a defeated man.
"Queen Elsa…" He spoke and his voice rasped, like someone who hadn't been allowed to speak for months. Lars reached down and pulled Hans' head up by the hair.
"Look at the Queen when you apologize to her." He commanded. He didn't really care if he hurt Hans, he knew that his brother didn't feel pain. Even if he did, it wasn't as though he had ever cared for any of his brothers or whether he hurt them. None of them cared.
"I… I must apologize for my actions, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna. What I did was unforgivable, and I know that I cannot ask to be pardoned for it. I will accept any punishment you deem worthy." Hans' head fell once more, finished with his short speech. Both the Queen and the Princess stared in surprise. Lars couldn't help but admire his brother's acting abilities. He knew Hans to be unfeeling and cold, but he was so good at putting on countless different faces. Lars pulled him to his feet.
"He is yours now, Queen Elsa."
She looked like she finally snapped out of the fog she had been in. "And if I don't want him?" She asked, looking at Hans like she was expecting him to snap at any moment. And she didn't even know what he was.
Lars shrugged, turning to make his exit. "Kill him." He said simply, pausing a moment next to Hans.
"Don't screw this one up. It's your last shot." He warned in a low voice, too low for anyone else to hear. Hans cringed away, head bent low. He looked at Lars like a man expecting a blow to follow at any second, fear covered by exhaustion and pain. Lars wondered how much of it was an act.
He always wore gloves. Elsa pretended not to notice. She didn't want to notice anything about the man, especially the fact that he was still around. But he did his work silently and efficiently, not at all what she had been expecting from the traitorous wretch. No escape attempts were made, not that he had many opportunities. He had only been at the castle a little over two months and Elsa hadn't spoken to him once.
Anna pitied him. She had confessed that much, though Elsa knew that her little sister hadn't spoken to him either. The two had spoken about what Hans had shared about his family and decided that much had been true. Elsa's feelings were more a mix of confusion. While he'd had every reason to jail her for treason and even kill her in attempt to stop the winter, he had done so for his own selfish gain and he had broken Anna's heart.
But she had broken it first.
For the first time in two months, Elsa approached Hans. "Your work here has been good?" She asked, hands linked in front of her.
He was bent over a box of silverware, polishing furiously. At the sound of her words, he dropped the pieces he was working on, pulling his hands back to himself and gave her a shocked look.
"Y-your Majesty." He stumbled over the words, standing and knocking the box of silverware to the floor, sending spoons in every direction. He started towards them, then stopped himself and looked at her. He bowed his head, then kneelled quickly, as though just remembering his manners. She watched his hands twitch nervously at his sides and felt helplessly out of place.
"You may stand."
"I should not." He remained kneeling, refusing to even raise his head. Elsa couldn't help but wonder how it was the same man that less than a year earlier had held her life in his hands and deemed it unimportant. Now she was the one with his life in her hands.
Those hands pulled together, fabric meeting fabric. Her gloves remained, despite her new control. She could not risk another accident, for some things couldn't be reversed.
"I-is there something I can do for you, My Queen?"
She bristled at the words, then wondered why. It was common for people to refer to her as their queen. Nothing disrespectful about it. But something about the way he said it… It was more like he was claiming her, then placing himself in a point of humility. It made her wonder how much of his acclaimed change was real or an act.
"No. Continue your work." She bent over to pick up a fallen fork next to her foot. The same one he reached for at the same time. Somehow, the metal burned her through her gloves the second she touched it, and Elsa pulled back. Hans finally looked up, yanking his gloved hands back, still holding the piece of cutlery.
"I'm so sorry. I-you, here." He held it out for her. Elsa shook her head, hands clutching one another again.
"No, I only meant to help. But I should go." Shaken, Elsa turned and strode away quickly before he could say anything further. Her hand still burned, bringing up too many questions. Too many doubts.
Hans had begun to wonder at his plan. But after two months of silence from Elsa, she had finally spoken to him. He knew that he had given her enough to be curious about and he knew that he had acted his part perfectly. It was only a matter of time before the Queen was driven back with questions, and he could be patient.
He was scrubbing floors when he heard her approach. The sound of her footsteps was unmistakably hers. Still, he pretended not to notice, only scrubbing harder, wishing he could shed his wet gloves, or at least dry them. But even more than in his own home, he had to control himself. And only leave not-so subtle clues for Elsa to find. Honestly, if she hadn't at least begun to put the pieces together yet, she was less intelligent than he originally thought.
"Prince Hans," She began.
Hans turned, slipping in the soapy water and and falling on his shoulder. He pushed himself up again, wavering and keeping his head down. "Just Hans." He corrected, voice shaking. His eyes drifted from her feet, to his hands clenching into fists, to the floor he had just made a mess of.
"Hans," Elsa corrected herself. He noticed her hands wringing together nervously and the icy chill in the room. Good, she was on unsure footing herself. He could use that.
"I need to speak with you."
It was almost too easy. Why had he assumed that Anna would be the easier target? "I understand if you feel the need to vent your anger. I will listen to anything you have to say." He spoke quietly, slowly rising to his feet and keeping his head down.
Her icy hand on his face counteracted the boiling heat inside and surprised him into looking up. There was no way he could have predicted that.
"Please look at me." She said softly, drawing her hand away. Her bare hand. He looked at her, wondering what the action meant. Had she removed her glove so she would be ready to defend herself if necessary? It seemed the most likely option. Hans plainly showed his surprise, knowing that it was the most natural thing for him to be.
"If that's what you wish, Queen Elsa."
"You never take off your gloves."
Hans linked his hands behind his back, out of her sight. "Old habits. My brothers never liked me to be without them." His eyes shut briefly in the subtlest grimace, like a man who'd just given away more than he wanted.
"Why not?" Elsa asked, pale blue eyes searching for answers. Hans allowed his eyes to drift around the room, looking anywhere but her. A telltale sign of a liar.
"Etiquette. For a royal in the Southern Isles, it's always proper to remain in gloves." He explained smoothly. She gave him doubtful look and the two fell into silence. He could practically hear the questions in her head. Calling herself crazy for even wondering, for believing that anything like that could possibly be real.
"I should return to work." Hans told her. It wasn't time to let her figure it out just yet. He needed to garner more pity first, then the secret would only cement the familiarity between them. She would be his before she even realized it.
She didn't trust him. She definitely didn't believe a word out of his mouth. So how was it that every time she looked at Hans, she saw herself? A reflection in a distorted mirror, twisted and broken and alone? Did he know what he had really done? The people around her expected her to be normal, to be okay.
She missed her room. The place that had seemed like a jail cell to her now looked like a safe-haven, shutting out the chaos around her. Anna wanted her to share her feelings, but she didn't know how. She hardly even knew how to feel.
While Hans was the opposite of her, he was the same. She had spoken to him several times now, drawing reluctant stories about his family out of him. For such different reasons, he had stopped feeling as well. The only way to block it all out and stop the pain was to just not feel anymore. Different paths to the same place.
She didn't trust him. But she understood him.
She was crying. It had been several months of being in Arendelle and seeing the queen and speaking to her. He had seen countless different sides of her. Angry, happy, even soft. But he had never seen her crying, before.
It was strange to see such a powerful figure bent and broken as she was. And maybe it was a lie to say he'd never seen her crying, because she had cried when he told her Anna was dead. At that point, he'd thought she was weak.
Now he couldn't help but admire how strong she was. She faced people everyday while it was so obvious to him that she craved solitude as much as he did. He counted it as the first time he saw her crying, because it was the first time he actually saw her.
And it was a dangerous sight.
Hans found himself drawn to her, knowing that nobody else would think to look for her on the roof. After spraying the dining room with ice, he wasn't sure that they would be looking for her at all. Even Anna seemed tired of her sister's theatrics.
"Queen Elsa." He spoke softly, so not to startle her. She looked up, immediately holding her hands to her chest.
"You shouldn't be here. It's not safe. I'm not safe."
Hans gave a flicker of a smile. So she cared if she hurt him. "I'm not afraid of you, Elsa." He spoke boldly, sitting down beside her. She inched away, but for once it wasn't out of repulsion that she moved away from him. She didn't even bother to correct him for using her name so informally.
"Please. I don't want to hurt you." Her voice sounded as small as a child's. What's more, he recognized the fear in it. The pain. It stirred something inside that he didn't understand.
Slowly, he tugged one of his gloves off. That pulled her eyes to him in a second. She had never asked about his gloves after the first time, but he often caught her staring at them. It didn't feel quite right. He had allowed his brothers to push him into many different things. But sharing his secret with someone, he wasn't sure if it was too far. He wasn't sure that he could allow them to do that.
But when he looked at Elsa, he wondered if it was entirely for them. Such a selfish part of him wanted her to know. To see that they were the same in more ways than she knew. He held out his hand.
"Take off your glove and give me your hand." He told her. With a miniscule shake of her head, Elsa clutched her hands even tighter to herself. Hans held his hand out patiently.
"Elsa. You're not a monster. You won't hurt me. Now give me your hand." His tone turned firm, eyes never leaving hers.
Her hands shook, he noticed. Just as they had shook on her coronation day, removing her gloves and reaching for the royal orb and scepter. Now they shook removing one glove and reaching for his hand.
Then fire met ice and it seemed to Hans that his world exploded.
Elsa assumed she was going insane. Yet every time she look at Hans, she felt his heat all over again. He hadn't needed to produce a flame for her to understand. He knew her better than anyone else because he had gone through the same things as her. It didn't take her long to put all the pieces together.
The stories he told of his brothers abuse made so much more sense fitting that into it. It made it impossible to hate him anymore. But then, she didn't think she had hated him for quite a while. She was just confused.
She found herself seeking him out more and more. His presence was peaceful, even if they never spoke of the secret they shared. At times she almost doubted herself. Then she would catch sight of the burned edge of one of his shirts or notice how his gloves set off steam when they got wet. She wasn't crazy.
At least, not crazy in regards to what he was. The new feelings tormenting her inside very well might make her insane. She looked at Hans and her heart skipped. When she was upset, she sought him out.
It was easier to talk to him. She didn't fear judgement, and he always understood what she was trying to say. He didn't try to fix it, he just listened. Surely she had lost her mind to feel that way about anyone, much less Hans.
But he saw her.
And she saw him.
But did she?
Hans leaned against the wall, head bowed. Elsa paced in front of him, ranting. Normally he didn't mind listening to her, letting her talk about the things that were troubling her. But his own tension was rising, impatience setting in. Without thinking, he shed his gloves and flexed his hands. Elsa stopped talking and stared at him. She looked afraid, for a moment.
Hans pushed away from the wall. "Go on." He told her, rubbing his hands together and enjoying the freedom of not having restricting cloth over his fingers. He knew he could control himself. He never had accidents.
Elsa remained silent for a long moment, eyeing him warily. "What are you doing?" She asked him.
Hans turned to one of the windows, looking out. "Just giving myself a little freedom. I can't always hold everything in."
He felt her approach before he felt her hand on his arm. "You can talk too, you know. I want to hear about you."
Hans jerked away, angry with her. Angry for the things he was feeling, for the way he actually wanted to hear her talk about her day. For the way he wanted to share about his.
"Let's not do this, Elsa." He growled. She only looked confused.
"What are you talking about?"
Hans turned towards her and the air almost crackled with tension. Like two magnets pulling towards each other and pushing away at the same time. He had stopped writing to Lars a month earlier. Every day, he told himself that he would do it the next, but pen never really met paper. And he knew that it never would.
"Are you so blind?" He almost reached out to touch her. Longing for that respite from the stifling heat inside, the cold that washed over him at the feel of her skin.
"Hans, I don't unders-"
He couldn't do it. He told himself that he was only doing as he was told, that he still felt nothing inside. It didn't explain why it felt so wrong when he yanked her against him, but he ignored that thought and slammed his lips roughly against hers.
If he thought her hand touching his was intense, it was nothing compared to what happened when their mouths met. Better than the moments when he let fire take control, he felt her ice in his veins.
To his surprise, she didn't pull away. She didn't send a pulse of ice into his heart. Her hands slid up his chest and wound around his neck, clinging to him like she needed him. Her icy touch tempered his heat, which he could feel rising by the second. She was getting colder, too. He could feel it, twisting one of his hands into her hair while the other wound around her waist.
It was a dangerous meeting, the hot and the cold. Putting the two together didn't really make sense, but Hans had to swallow a groan at how perfect her touch felt.
Smoke. It took a moment for his overloaded brain to register the smell, and he pushed Elsa away, spinning around. A chair he'd brushed against was engulfed in flames. Before he could shout or grab something to pat it out, a blast of ice froze the chair solid.
Hans turned back towards Elsa. He smiled. I'm going to tell her the truth.
"Queen Elsa!"
Kai burst into the room. Elsa flushed, patting at her dress, her hair. She looked just as regal as ever.
"Yes, Kai?" He could hear the tremor in her voice, but doubted that anyone else would recognize it. He hoped the news Kai had would be short, because he wanted to speak with her. He suddenly needed to tell her Lars' plan before anything else happened, before she said anything else, before-
"There's a ship from the Southern Isles at the docks!"
Before that happened.
Elsa paced in her cell. There were no chains over her hands, surprisingly. But no amount of ice could get her out of the cell she was in. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened.
Hans helped them. Hans betrayed you. Hans did it all so he could help his brothers take your throne and take Arendelle. Hans never really cared.
Ice spread across the floor and icicles grew from the ceiling, proving that she was upset. She was angry. Hans was probably taking the throne at that moment, laughing about how easily she had been fooled.
And Anna… What would happen to Anna? They had no reason to lock her up, what would they do with her?
"Get your hands off of me!" The snarl came from the stairs, along with a flash of light and several cries. Then there was one short shout and Hans was drug into the hold, limp.
She couldn't deny that her heart stopped at the sight. But it was only Hans, a man that had betrayed her one too many times. A man who deserved to die. A man being thrown into the same cell as her..?
"You can't leave him in here!" Elsa shouted after the retreating guards. The only reply was the echoing sound of footsteps retreating. She gave a cry of frustration, icicles in the cell growing longer.
But around Hans there was only steam. All of the ice near him melted as he blinked his eyes groggily, pushing himself up on his elbows. Elsa just wanted to kick him in the face and shove him back down.
"What are you doing down here?" She demanded, hands clenched into fists and ice angrily following every step.
Hans would not look her in the eyes. "What do you think? I didn't follow his plan well enough, I defended you. So he called me a traitor and put me down with the one person who hates me most."
He struggled to his feet. Elsa slapped him.
"I understand that you're angry-"
She slapped him again. "Angry doesn't begin to describe what I am. You fooled me into trusting you, again, and you used me for your own selfish gain, again. I hate you."
She paced away from him, only dimly aware of the fact that he followed. Her heart was twisting in her chest, begging him to deny it. Claim that he had been no part of it, his brothers were acting on their own. Spinning around, Elsa faced him again, standing far too close to be considered appropriate. She could feel the heat pouring off of him just as she was sure he could feel the cold coming off of her.
"Tell me you weren't a part of this." She begged him.
His dark green eyes finally met hers. "I… I never expected to actually fall for you, when they sent me back."
Like the final twist of the knife, Elsa accepted that it was true. It didn't matter what Hans felt, he had been a part of his brother's plan. And she couldn't believe a word that he said. And her kingdom was lost.
"What happens to Anna?" She asked desperately, blue eyes pleading that her sister wouldn't be hurt. His eyes fell again.
"She will be executed. Same as you, tomorrow." Hans told her softly.
Elsa gave a soft cry, collapsing on the floor. She thought she heard a quiet 'As will I' from Hans, but couldn't tell.
"I have nothing left." The words left her mouth bitterly as she accepted that her kingdom was lost.
For the first time in his life, Hans felt helpless. There was no tale he could spin to make things better, his fire could do nothing to protect him or the woman he loved. No words he could say to convince her he wasn't lying when he said he cared. Not that that part mattered anymore.
"You can't give up." He told her, refusing to let her let go of Arendelle so easily.
"I have no choice." The words were followed by a wall of ice surrounding her on every side and blocking him from her. He gave an angry cry and punched the side of it. He was not going to give up on her easy.
"Elsa!" He shouted, laying his palm flat against the ice. Water streamed down around his hand and a small hole appeared.
"You can't give up. Not yet. You can still beat them."
"And how do I know you're not just doing this to get your own revenge on your brothers? Using me, again."
The words cut like a knife, but he knew that he deserved them. "You don't." He told her regretfully. "But it doesn't matter. What matters is that you get out of here. You take the kingdom back by catching them by surprise and you leave me here. Lock me back in, I don't care. Just don't give up, please don't give up."
He had never felt anything so strange before. Empathy so deep he was actually willing to remain where he was at just for her peace of mind. It was something he couldn't explain, but Hans suddenly knew that he would do anything for her.
And while the look in her eyes told him she would never trust him again, there was glimmer of fight back in them. He could have kissed her, she looked so beautiful.
"How do I get out of here?"
Hans helped her to melt the walls she'd created. "This cell was built to withstand both hot and cold individually. But together…" He grabbed the lock on the gate.
"Take the other side." He ordered. Elsa approached him warily, looking down at the lock. She reached out a hand, then stopped herself. Hans knew why.
They would touch again. That pause was enough to make him smile. Because it proved that she still felt something for him. That pause would be enough to get him through a thousand years in jail.
She grabbed the lock as well. They both concentrated, a meeting of their powers too intense for even the hardiest metal, and the lock shattered. Hans pushed the door open.
"Elsa, please."
She looked back at him and he took her hand, a familiar shiver running up his arm. To his surprise, she didn't pull away. She stepped closer. Hans kissed her forehead, then dropped her hand and stepped away.
"I love you. And you may never believe me. And you shouldn't. But I do."
She gave him one last mournful look, then disappeared from the cell. Hans slumped onto the single bench and shut his eyes.
All that was left to do was wait.
~One month later~
Elsa was in a permanent state of confusion. She wanted nothing more than to rush down to the dungeon and speak with Hans, let him tell his side, let him hold her.
But he had betrayed her. And it would only bring about more pain if she were to do so, because she could never free him. Already, people called for his head, and she wasn't sure how long she could make excuses to not sentence him with death.
Her heart clenched at the thought.
He loved her. At least that was what he claimed. But what did she know about love? What did he know about love?
Just two heartless fools trying to pretend that they could actually love anything. They knew nothing of what true love actually was.
Love is putting someone else's needs before your own. Olaf's words darted through her mind. Like Hans, helping you to escape while he stayed behind, just to give you peace of mind. She supplied the later part, though it only served to make her confusion worse. It was so much easier to believe that Hans was evil through and through. So why did her heart betray her by insisting that he cared?
Her council met later that day. Once again, the subject of Hans was brought up.
"He must pay for his crimes."
"He nearly cost you the kingdom."
"You cannot suffer the traitor to live any longer."
She knew that she couldn't put them off any longer. She had always known that it was just a matter of time, how long she could put it off. But there was no delaying the inevitable, it seemed. All eyes on her, Elsa rose to her feet.
"It is with a heavy heart that I charge Prince Hans with treason and sentence him...to death." Her part spoken, Elsa all but collapsed in her chair, wondering if he would forgive her. Like two fools in love, they betrayed each other over and over again.
But this would be the end of it.
Except, she was the only one that knew of his secret…
Elsa didn't even know they had an executioner's block, much less and executioner. But there they both were, looking so ominous as the prisoner was lead in with a sack over his head and his hands bound. With her council and her people watching, Elsa couldn't do what she wanted and run to him. She could only remain in her chair and take shaky breaths.
"Remove the sack. The prisoner will look me in the face when he faces his fate." She said boldly. A guard pulled the black cloth from his head and his eyes met hers.
Elsa choked back a cry, trying to keep her pain from showing. Run. She wanted to shout. These people don't know. You can easily catch them by surprise.
He did nothing. Only stared at her with a quiet look of understanding. She had never even told him she loved him back. Panic set in at that thought and she wanted nothing more than to yell it to the skies. But she held it back, looking at him and praying that he would know.
Hans gave the slightest nod of his head.
"Does the prisoner have any last words?" Elsa prayed her voice stayed steady. Hans' eyes finally left hers to briefly sweep over the crowd before flicking back to her.
"Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart." He knelt before the executioner's block. Elsa's eyes burned and her hand went to her mouth.
He'd had a frozen heart when he came to her. And just as she truly believed it had thawed, she was the one to put him to death.
Elsa shut her eyes when the ax fell.
She could have sworn she felt her heart freeze over.
Am I basically a terrible person? Yes. Do I regret this? No. Unfortunately, this is the end. I understand if you hate me. I also understand that there are a lot of holes in this and a lot of unexplained circumstances. It's just what I had in my head and I had to get it out. I do happen to be a pretty big Helsa shipper, and I'll probably eventually post some of my other stuff with them that actually has a happy ending and is a little more developed than this is. Anyways, please review and let me know what you think, even if you did hate it!